


Expletive

by PendulumPending



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Harry, Black Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, M/M, Other, POV Harry Potter, Protective Sam Winchester, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:23:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21586816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PendulumPending/pseuds/PendulumPending
Summary: The story told to the rest of the wizarding world about their time chasing horcruxes wasn't exactly accurate. The three learned very quickly, the benefit of being economical with facts.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. Here we go.
> 
> The first of ( hopefully ) many unrelated one shots. Fingers crossed.

Ron had taken to leering at Harry these days; squinting in concentration then tutting in disgust before sulking off outside their shared charmed tent. Harry had lost count by now but he was sure it happened atleast twice a day.

It all started when they'd found Slytherins locket then figured out its affect. They decided to wear it in turns. It's been a few weeks and Harry's sure his best friend is a little more affronted than usual; less loud and sheepishly offendable and more quiet and aggressively broody.

It's been another long day of checking the wards they put up around their temporary base every 2 hours and an endless game of jeopardy with his brain, trying to figure out where or what the next step is. Harry carelessly sits on the floor beside their makeshift kitchen table, shaggy unruly hair at its optimum messiness, mostly clean t-shirt loose on his waning frame and baggy jeans artfully folded twice at the waist and ankles. Eyes closed, resting his head close to Hermione's restless leg as she prowls through books at the table. It's her turn and he's trying to share the bad energy by being as close to her as possible.

She sits ramrod straight on the bench Ron fashioned out of a dead log and stumps, her now manageable mane twisted into pretty locks and then carrelled into a ponytail. She's made a habit of wearing an oversized plaid shirt that sometimes doubles as a blanket or pillow or towel or anything she may find use for. She pulls it off in frustration now and stands to tie it around her jeaned hips, effectively jabbing Harry in the neck with her knee. Harry barely protests, moaning slightly to show his frustration, it's enough to warrant a cold stare from her and a concerned inhale of breath from Ron.

Ron sighs long sufferingly and pulls out his grabby hands" Times up. Hand it over Granger."

Harry looks up sharply at the sound of Ron's voice. When did he come back from his broody walk? Surely he would have heard his cordroyed steps walk in... unless his spell muted it; it had been his turn to cast a protective spell and he'd decided that muting expletives, farts, any sound made as a result of unavoidable bodily functions and anything that generally made him lose focus was a necessity . The spell may have unexpectedly extended to a few other things he hadn't even thought of.

Also... why were Ron's milky pale arms on full display in his natty tank top? Were they always this ... defined? And while we're on this subject, had Ron grown taller suddenly? Harry silently watched the horcrux change hands, Ron went from endearing redhead to fiery strawberry blond man as soon as the locket slid onto his chest.

" Huh" , Harry thought idly. " Curious."

Curious because he'd always used neutral and platonic adjectives before. He wonders when that changed. He understands the attraction he feels towards his friends when they have the locket on, it calls to him.

But sometimes.

Sometimes it's different. Sometimes Ron puts it on and looks at him like he kicked his puppy and he's very pissed off about it and his irrational stomach flips at the mere thought of what the look means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I like chapters.
> 
> Planning on posting the second Chapter on 29/11/2019.
> 
> Edit: 
> 
> The inspiration for this story https://www.bustle.com/p/artist-katie-knudson-draws-harry-potter-scenes-that-didnt-make-the-movies-including-one-of-the-saddest-moments-of-the-story-8942462


	2. Over the seas and far away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's too cold" , she thinks , " for him to be walking around shirtless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me , still inspired . : )
> 
> Title is quite obviously KT Tunstall inspired.

1 year ago - 1996, somewhere in Idaho, USA

The sun peeks into a mint condition 1967 Chevrolet Impala, black in colour and in aura. It's occupants lay haphazardly in the back seat, fast and heavily asleep.

The middle-of-nowhere gas station come diner whose lot they're parked in is a messy ode to the night before. Bottles of all sorts broken and whole strewn everywhere, fast food wrappers with the diners name emblazoned on them are either crumbled, soggy or softly sailing in the early morning breeze.

The cars leather protests minutely under the stirrings of one of the two bodies in its care. Whose valiant fight with consciousness ends in a defeated huff and a scratch of a head of tightly curled crown of hair. The other body in the car folds in on itself a bit more ,earning a groan from the car.

Hermione slides up the seat slowly, a yawn ready to escape her mouth when the person she's sharing the car with suddenly giggles quietly in ,what seems to be, their sleep.

" Oh Hermione " he sighs " _So_ cute...".

She looks on in confusion as he proceeds to laugh softly and wiggle to cuddle closer to dream Hermione.

Nope.

He's slapped awake promptly. Not a hint of remorse as she pushes the car door open ignoring his protests and complaints. Almost bangs his head banging it closed. She spares him an impatient sigh and irritated " _Will_ you hurry up!".

All he knows is grumbling, all he does is grumble at her. He's fluent in grumble. She hates it...but gets such satisfaction from it. It's annoyingly compelling.

She's pondering this while looking out at the ocean of grass on the other side of the road their on. Looks both ways at the empty road that seems to stretch as far as the horizon in either direction. 

An uncharacteristic sneer smolders onto her features, momentarily darkening her whole demeanor. No one would hear him scream...

Her thoughts are interrupted by a distant rumbling and sleek swoosh sound reverberating in the air around them. 

A tall , lean, shirtless ,shoeless and jean clad figure suddenly appears in the middle of the road. His back to them, arms outstretched towards the sky and eerie bark of a laugh escaping his too wide open mouth.

Back near the Impala, Hermione stops her charge from reaching into his pocket for his wand. Arches one of her near perfect brows and shakes her head minutely.

The laughing dies down eventually, they wait him out. 

He turns to them eventually, they have nothing but time so, they wait patiently until he does.

"It's too cold" , she thinks , " for him to be walking around shirtless". 

Then "...oh..." because of course she has his shirt. This is why she has his shirt. This is why it's been given to her; she hoped it was for a different reason. 

As he comes closer she notices the changes to his body that only time and life can induce; he looks years older than the last time they met. Her car buddy inches in front of her slightly which - if she's honest - is a little sweet if misguided.

Sam walks right up to her, looks down at her upturned face and grins at the body trying to shield her from him.

" Malfoy.. " she sighs " calm down, how much harm can he do with his pectorals out?" She argues.

Not at all convinced, Draco nods in the general direction of the offending pecs

" _Thats_ " and scoffs " what you like?".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy finally makes an appearance.


	3. Silent subtext

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds his fists clenching and disgust rising, all aimed at his best friend. He's about to reach for the wand tucked into his jean pocket when Ron quietly mutters an " Accio locket" and the horcrux quickly floats over to Ron's hands. 
> 
> Whatever creature lives in this thing calls out to him, silently begs him to give in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who posted early because they have a flagrant disregard for schedules... Its me. I'm the flagrant one.

She's disappeared again. She does this sometimes when he sits too close for too long or his hands linger on her for longer than their relationship allows or when he's been staring. He does that now, stares wistfully. He can't help it.

Hermione shouldn't mind, she should understand that its the locket that makes him this way. Ron never questions it, allows Harry to almost drape himself on him as they sleep, even strokes his extraordinarily wild hair like he's a beloved pet. But even he draws the line at the creepy staring.

Harry's had the locket on a bit longer than usual today because Hermione hasn't returned, he refuses to give it to Ron, knowing how much it affects his firey friend. They're laying just outside the tent on the cool grass, enjoying the near silence their wards afford them. The moment is eerie yet calming because he feels like he can hear Ron's turbulent thoughts as he shifts closer to him. The redhead turns to him slightly and sits up, shooting a confused look back at him. He opens his mouth to speak - seems to think better of it - and closes it.

Harry hums and sighs " When did it get so hard to speak to me Ronald?".

A few moments pass before Ron takes a deep steadying breath "... You're turning into him Harry. I can ducking _feel_ it."

They let that hang in the air like a bad fart. Allow themselves time to understand the implications of what they each choose to say next. They both know who Ron is referring to.

Harry finds his fists clenching and disgust rising, all aimed at his best friend. He's about to reach for the wand tucked into his jean pocket when Ron quietly mutters an " Accio locket" and the horcrux quickly floats over to Ron's hands. All the anger that was flooding him evaporates in an instant, his heart clenches when he thinks about what he was about to do. He drops his head in shame and automatically reaches for Ron's fingers the moment the lockets chain slithers onto his best mates neck.

Whatever creature lives in this thing calls out to him, silently _begs_ him to give in.  
  
***  
Hours later, Hermione returns with a ridiculously tall, plaid clad and obviously American man who smiles way too much at her. She gingerly steps into their living space like a teenager who's been caught sneaking back in after a night out. Attached to her left hand is a ridiculously large American one whose fingers are entwined with hers.

Both men frown at the sight from their seats at their 'kitchen table' and make no move to welcome the two. Harry takes it upon himself to break the awkward silence by clearing his throat gently.

" So... whose your friend?" he doesn't know why he says it. It seemed like the only thing to say after he caught the look on Ron's face. Was it jealousy? Or is he projecting his own emotions onto Ron? He's tired and confused and this huge man is an eyesore, looks alien in their refuge. But he patiently waits for her to respond, Ron watching on glumly.

Hermione keeps her eyes on her two best mates and announces with her whole chest that - "He's my soul mate. His name is Sam."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does one look obviously American? You may ask... Think about it.
> 
> And did I say asexual Harry? Or did I mean a sexual Harry?


	4. The Sam of things.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has lost her smartsplaining skills.This Giant Sam man must have made her less Hermione-y. The only logical explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can honestly only blame myself for how scattered my writing turns out.

One single thought kept floating to the top of his murky mind as he watched her go through her nightly ritual, "What about Malfoy ?".

One twisted lock of hair became three then four, all neatly spaced and delicately liquorice in color. He'd always loved watching his friend learn how to take care of and have pride in her magnificent halo of hair, had felt terrible about the way Malfoy would say the most awful things to her without realising they had muggle-world meaning. Loaded , almost , racial slurs. A part of him thinks he knew. He's pretty sure he knew...knows. 

They've been chasing this dead man's quest for so long...he's lost touch with what's real and what's gone.

A soft voice pulls him out if the depths of his mind with an insistent murmur of his name. A long and burdened sigh pulls its way out of him as he swipes a hand across his face, effectively turning the page on his thoughts. Out of sight, to be reviewed as he lays awake worrying instead of sleeping.

" Where in the world Hermione.." Harry starts , but she's always _been_ at least ten steps ahead.

" I'm helping him save his 18 year old self Harry. Isn't that what we do? Help?" She offers unhelpfully.

A beat.

Just as he feared.

" Could you run that by me again, and this time, make sense." 

Hermione looks equal parts absolutely irritated and intentionally annoyed when she gets up and walks out of her corner of the tent towards the all purpose 'kitchen'. Harry's left to stare at the well-worn plaid shirt that now lays forgotten on her cot, and realises who the owner is. The Giant American...Sam. He should really start calling him Sam in his head.

Malfoy ,as a train of thought, is still a recurring problem. He seemed to hate Hermione and she had no choice but to be wary of him yet...the stolen glances and static, tense energy that surrounded the two told of a completely different story. One that seemed doomed to never see the light of day thanks to Draco's stupidity. Understandably, Malfoy turning out to be the wizarding equivalent to a ethnic supremacist , did make him even less attractive to her.

Attractive...she is. Very.

Attracted to her...could Ron be? He seemed very anti-Sam when they bundled in hand in hand.

Another swipe of the face, a page turned and bookmarked. To be reviewed when things made more sense.

________________________

Hermione has lost her smartsplaining skills. She's been explaining the same thing for hours and they still don't get it. This Giant Sam man must have made her less Hermione-y. The only logical explanation.

Ron and Harry sit across from the time-crossed lovers as they give them ineffective imploring looks. The mention of Angels, Demons and vampires and time travel isn't what's hard to believe; Sam insists he's from the year 2009 and has a slight addiction to demon blood having had his first taste in infancy.

Ducking Wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing. What do you love? Come tell me all about it...my inbox is open if commenting isn't your thing.


	5. Tones and Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 93  
> We're alone again. 
> 
> I swear I can feel his eyes on me, it's a heat I can't escape...he's mental. 
> 
> Harry looks up from the worn pages of bound parchment in his hands and slowly caresses Ron's form with his gaze. The phrase taunts him from the page he finds himself clenching... 
> 
> He's different, not quite my mate anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about real life.

_Day 93_

_We're alone again._

_I swear I can feel his eyes on me, it's a heat I can't escape...he's gone mental._

Harry looks up from the worn pages of bound parchment in his hands and slowly caresses Ron's form with his gaze. The phrase taunts him from the page he finds himself clenching...

_He's different, not quite my mate anymore_. 

He lets a petty chuckle escape his lips as he skips a few lines of Ron's valid complaints about his sudden obsession with taming his unruly hair. Harry settles into the cot and throws the dirtiest glance at the redhead across the room. Only Ron, he thinks, would keep diary parchment under his damn pillow and then offer someone their cot to sleep in.

No, he seethes, only Ron would offer his cot to a Giant American _forcing_ Harry to offer his own instead. Logically this can only be Sam Winchester's fault, wobbling in and kicking about, as destructive giraffes are wont to do.

Harry physically fights the urge to leap into a run and tackle the hunters' knees, them being the only thing he can reach. His attempts to not look utterly pissed off have not gone unnoticed because Hermione picks this very moment to saunter over to him and cross her arms at him.

The audacity.

The look he gives her expresses this sentiment.

" How good of you to check in on me Mrs. Winchester " he angry whispers " Care for a cuppa? ". Never taking his eyes off of Sam.

" He won't steal your best mate Harry. " She shrugs which turns into a little contemplative jig " He won't steal Ron...is more accurate."

" Be gone demon bride . " A dismissive hand is waved as he squints harder at the American.

" I do like my men mysterious. " She chuckles completely ignoring his tone and general demeanor . 

" Mysterious? Oh you mean unneccesarily tall time traveling monster hunter demon baby idiots who break all natural laws of magic to frolic around England with an 18 year old witch? "

Harry allows their eyes to meet as the air around them thickens with tension. 

" Yes, quite mysterious Hermione." A smirk. 

" Better than my previous options." An irritated tilt of the head.

" The options you considered, yes, not all. " 

" Malfoy is a twat."

" I agree. " A nod to Sam " He let you bring that in here."

Hermione softens as she searches his face for answers " Easier to blame the unfortunately tall American isn't it? ". His face must betray him somehow because one minute he's fuming silently directing all his confusing rage at the hunter and the next he is being hugged fiercely by the forementioned demon bride.

" Found his diary." She says, a statement.

" He doesn't trust me. " 

" Anymore." She corrects, her head moving from his chest to his shoulder.

" Am I like Sam? " 

" Well...the parallels are certainly...there." His mate, ever the diplomat.

" You trust Sam. Right? " Harry pleads. 

She considers him for a moment before resting her chin on his shoulder and smiling knowingly at her ridiculous friend " I've only ever known him like this Harry. This is the only Sam I can trust."

What hurts the most for Harry is the way Ron has changed.

He doesn't quite speak to him the same way anymore doesn't quite exude the same warmth. He'd venture to say there's a little more steel in Ron's voice when responding to Harry. But maybe it's all in his head and what difference would it make anyway...sure, he's developed a dull ache in his chest whenever Ron says his name in that carefully neutral voice he's adopted. Sure, yes, he cringes whenever Ron tries embarrassingly hard to not be alone with Harry for too long. But that's normal. Right? 

What hurts the most, he decides, is that Ron can overlook Sam's flaws but not Harrys'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that that's off my chest...


End file.
